Outbreak
by Chii-Chi-Chi
Summary: I may not be the brightest guy in Ottawa, Ohio, but I at least know it's safe enough to ignore Mom's favor and spend two hours watching the meteor shower with Rachel Berry. Little did I know…That this was the calm before the storm. AU Zombie-Ensemble Fic
1. Blaine & Tina :: OREGON

_**`author's note: **_ So, this is not a 13 Ghosts Update but it is a story update. It has been adapted from an original story I wrote called Outbreak, a while ago. Its also a personal expirement in writing as many characters as I can in several different locations with one common element: They are in a world where the shit hits the fan. _Hard. _Do not expect me to update as often with this one as I am with 13 Ghosts, but PLEASE read through it and critique the writing. Can't get anything right if I'm naive to what I'm doing wrong. Wow, that last sentence felt a little too formal for my taste. Also, this is an ensemble fic, but it focuses on different people during different times and at different places. Don't expect the whole New Directions gang to get together as I've not thought that far into this yet.

This being said, ENJOY! Please read in the 3/4 format, as it is best-read this way.

WELL, this chapter is an odd-friendship that I thought up in my head a few weeks ago: Tlaine or Bina. - Blaine and Tina friendship. Enjoy.

* * *

"So, when do you think this'll happen again?"

"Not sure. Hope we're alive though."

We laughed, stretched out on the grass of Evergreen Park, watching the lights playing before us in the dark sky. The stars were shining even brighter than usual, as the parade of lights continued. Meteor showers were rare. I felt as though I was watching an invisible force paint the night; when I saw one streak of light pass, I could swear a star would become visible. Other people gazed at the sky as well, resting on their backs in groups of twos or threes. The park was littered with people, all with the same look of wonderment. The peace and comfort we felt then were amazing. This night would be something unforgettable.

Tonight we would be at peace with the world, all united with the sole purpose of enjoying ourselves, then allowing tomorrow to throw us into the mundane routines we were accustomed to, here in the little town of Crystal Point.

Little did I know…That this was the calm before the storm.

_**O.U.T.B.R.E.A.K**_

_**Tina & Blaine **_

_**UNITEDSTATES-OREGON-POINTCRYSTAL-COHEN-CHANGRESIDENCE-7:00 AM  
**_

"_Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman…"_

I turned, hugging a red pillow to my body as the sounds of Panic! At The Disco filtered into my room via the special alarm I had bought, due to simple urge, three weeks prior to the dreary morning. Its function was to disturb the dreams of others by playing pre-recorded songs placed there by the consumer that had bought it, perhaps one that did so due to its wonderful shade of purple. If tampered with properly, it would be loud enough to awaken an entire household. It was highly durable as well.

"_From that moment you'll be out of place and under-dressed. I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it. Ruining this banquet for the mildly-"_

Scratch that. Once it hit the wall, Brendon's voice was cut off. It was replaced by the incessant chirping of the bird right outside my window. Surprisingly enough, my move to strike it down without mercy was interrupted by the opening of my door. Instinctively, I hid under the covers. I only slept in a bra. I allowed one eye to peek out from underneath the purple shaded fabric, before scowling at who it was. The window was pulled open, the curtains having been pulled back beforehand. It was quite funny though, as you could only see the lower-half of a human body trying to gain balance on my cabinets. The bright green converse sneakers, with a familiar ME sketched on it with sharpie, was visible. There was a flash and a groan. Legs shifted backwards, revealing a brown leather belt, a white, short sleeved hoodie and sandy hair. There were long black sleeves, indicating an undershirt. Once the perpetrator was in the room again, I tossed my pillows at him.

"Damn it! I forgot to turn off the flash."

"What the hell Max?"

"I was trying to get a picture of a Northern Flicker, you caffeine-hooked female." His face held a smirk, along with the usual 'holier-than-thou' expression.

"A what?" I ran a hand through my hair, and then glanced at the fallen alarm clock on the other side of the room. '7:15 am' greeted me in big, red numbers.

"I needed it for my album with Dad. Although, I wonder what it was doing all the way out here." The young man fixed his long sleeves before giving me a once over.

"You know what I wonder? I wonder why you're here… In _my_ room." I muttered, pulling the covers over the bed after I got up and stretched.

"Wow, aren't you supposed to wear panties and not boxers?" Maxwell Cohen-Chang wanted to die. His dark brown eyes stared at me, humor in them, as his hands toyed with the camera in his hands.

All it took to get him out of there was a small twitch. He practically flew, leaving with a smile wider than the Cheshire cat that tormented Alice. I slammed my door and then fell back on my bed.

"Go put a fork in a socket or something."

Why I couldn't treat my brother better? I try, because I really love Maxwell, I really do. Unfortunately, due to his near perfect grades and my above-average status, he saw it fit to constantly remind me that he knew more than I did. That snarky attitude was going to leave one day, but not soon enough. I smiled and waved at my mother, who was wearing a smile as she stared down at me from the poster plastered on my ceiling. It was a family portrait. The oddest one we could come up with. Max was nine back then. He was riding on Dad's shoulders and sticking his tongue out at the camera, while Dad did that trick where he made his eyes seem lopsided. I was thrusting my hand forward in a punching motion, hair in a side ponytail and the message on my shirt clear as day: 'Revolutionary Chickie.' Mom was posing in what she called 'model-like' position. She was using a pout and a hand was placed on her waist. She had 'fluffed' her hair up that day.

The alarm clock began playing again, this time with 'Nails for Breakfast, Tacks for Snacks'. It was Monday, as stated by my Hello Kitty calendar. It was February 18, 2005.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself pulling out a fresh Oreo Pop-tart from the toaster. Maxwell chugged his milk and kept staring at me as though he was expecting something. He gasped and ran for his backpack, which leaned against the kitchen counter. After a quick look through it, he glared at me.

"What ridiculous prank do you have planned for today?"

"Can't get anything past you, can I, Maxi-pad?" His face flushed pink and he opened his mouth to protest. Words were met with chocolate goodness. Hooray for Pop-tarts. He coughed, bit and then chewed. The thirteen year old continued glaring at me before grabbing the rest of his breakfast and stuffing it in his mouth.

I stopped by the closet in the hallway, checking my reflection in the mirror/sliding door. Today I opted for a simple purple tank top with a black knee-length wool sweater skirt, black and white striped stockings, black boots and a dark brown overcoat. I kept my hair loose with a black feather clip on the left side.

"I'm coming home late today, got to cover Beth's shift."

"You look like the Grim Reaper's daughter."

"Thank you!"

Shutting the door behind me, I received a wave from our front-door neighbor, Ms. Burgundy, who was tending to her prized flowers. 'Prized' being that she valued those flowers more than her own life. Proof of that was being hit with specialized fertilizer for getting a football stuck in her bushes.

Superbowl Sunday was practically a national holiday. All was forgiven on holidays so she couldn't complain.

Life around Point Crystal was pretty much simple. Since Washington was a leading agricultural state, you could see a lot of farming between here and Longview. All the machines cooked up there for the caring of crops made its way all over the state. Here in Wahkiakum County, the population count barely reached 7,500; 5,000 of those people living in Cathlamet, the rest here in Crystal Point. Boy was I happy I paid attention in History class.

Making my way down the sidewalk, I waved at the friendly faces of people in their daily routines. Jo and Margaret were driving their truck, possibly making a run to the local market. Mr. Kingston was picking up his morning paper, scowling as his wife settled in front of their house with a cup of coffee; that man missed Chicago too much. The Henderson family was making sure their seven children were all in the van before leaving. I recognized Lisa, a girl who had a bit of an interest in corn. I wouldn't say obsession, even though she ate corn on the cob almost every day of her life. Some old men were setting up a game of poker in front of the Allen's Barbershop, which was down the street from my home. They waved and asked about my morning. Dad always said to act as sweet and innocent as possible, and to always agree to what they said. It was better than arguing with them over how ridiculous it was to allow women to wear pants. Some of them knew better but others were still ignorant. I wasn't about to blow up at them about their beliefs. They were from another time.

I passed a corner candy shop and waited for the bus, next to the sign with the rather ugly picture of, you guessed it, a bus. The sun was sneaking peeks of the town over the lumbering clouds, and the streets were still wet from the rain of the passed night. A couple of stray dogs skulked about, and an elderly woman swept the area in front of her shop. Point Crystal was dreary at the moment, but it was growing. I remembered listening to Mr. Kingston complain to my Dad about the lack of activity. My Dad replied with a formality he usually had around his job, as manager of a construction company; he also had that manner of speaking when he was around people he disliked.

Someone from 'old money' had come, about five or six years ago, and began buying land around the town like crazy. Most of the older men and women complained, but nothing could be done due to deeds long gone and their inability to seek help from anyone they didn't know. A man by the name of Knowles was building malls and using lots for commercial purposes, all around Washington. Many said it was his interest in the town that was causing its spontaneous growth. A new mall would open soon near the west exit of the town, at the road, route 101, which led to the border. A theater had already been made, and besides the high-priced snacks, it wasn't that bad.

I only regretted what that man brought with him.

"Tina!"

Speak of the devil.

A Mercedes SLK 55 rolled over to the stop sign and stopped. I didn't know much about cars, but this one was boasted about so much you couldn't forget it if you tried. I saw dirty blonde hair and narrowed blue eyes. Cain sat on the door to the driver's side, feet still on the seat by the looks of it, and blew a kiss. Thanks to the new construction and the money that would soon be pouring in, people like the Knowles had begun to move to the town. Sure, Point Place needed to get with the times but they caused too much ruckus for my taste.

A couple of his thugs sneered at me from inside the car. I already knew them. Guys who were only friends with Mr. Bimbo because of his money. Speaking of narrow-headed, arrogant assholes, Cain maneuvered himself out of the car and sauntered towards me.

I always wondered why he focused on me, when there were more desperate, easy girls to go around at our school.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Go and inflate your ego or something. Why don't you get Darlene to help you on that one?" I hissed.

The guys in the car hooted, and the doors opened. Three of them, and there were probably only 200 neurons between them.

"Ouch… Babe, come on, that hurt." Cain clutched at his heart before placing his left arm over my shoulders. I winced as his hand gripped my left shoulder. Not hard, but enough to send a small message: Submit.

Not if my life depended on it.

"Now listen. I know we've had a bit of a trouble past but… Let's let bygones be bygones. You're a smart girl, I appreciate that. We could have some real fun-"

His words were practically whispered, too close to my ear, and so, Cain found himself being kicked right in the crotch. He groaned, moving forward and trying to save his family jewels while holding on to the sign on the sidewalk. Without looking at his goons, I tried to cross the street, only to be pulled back by a strong hand.

"Where ya think ya goin'?"

"Let me go you, sack of-"

The pressure of the hand was off. Another tugged me, and turning to reprimand the person allowed relief to flow through me. Thank the heavens for best friends. Blaine pulled me towards the incoming bus, and stopped as the vehicle came to a stop. We ran onto it, leaving some change for Mr. McQueen. He was the most interesting person I had the chance to meet; long burly hair, most of it hidden under a white beanie. His dark skin was usually clean, clear of blemishes and he often hummed while driving. Sitting down, the view from the window allowed me to see Cain's goons trying to figure out what hit them. I saw a super market cart lying about, the wheels still turning. Blue eyes stared as the bus began to move. Before any reaction came from my part, a middle finger was pressed against the glass. I felt my eyebrows rise. That was too crass for Blaine.

"A cart? Really?"

The curly haired teen smiled at me before putting on an earphone, and then placing its counterpart in my own. Blaine Anderson was one of a kind in my eyes, and a lunatic in Maxwell's; his mother thought he was more trouble than he was worth, but loved him all the same. Dad thought I could 'do better', but noted he wouldn't mind going hunting with him. The old men around town called him a rascal who should've been dealt with the way they would have: with a broom or a saucepan. Blaine did things his way, sometimes sassed off to his mother, and wore odd things that caught people's attention. He was usually gentlemanly, which kind of class with his Hot Topic/Abercrombie and Fitch infused style.

Today he wore a t-shirt, olive in color, with a black jacket, washed out blue jeans and beige hiking shoes. I caught a flash of neon green when he tugged at the curls on his head. Looks like spiky and bright was the piercing of choice. He pulled his feet up and over my lap, letting his back rest against the window.

"Got new kicks." Blaine said proudly.

"Are those Timberland knock-offs?" I snickered as Blaine's eyebrows shot up. They disappeared under the hair covering his forehead and he mocked frowned.

"These are original Timberland Men's Timberland Authentic 3-Eye Classic Lugs. In–"

"Some color that looks like light brown but really isn't because they cost too much to be just brown?"

"In marigold."

"Did you sell your soul for them?"

"No… they were a gift."

"So you did." I huffed dramatically.

He pulled some of his unruly curls away from his face and winked.

I shoved him.

He tickled me in return.

"Why'd you do that? I had it all under control." I managed to say through my laughter.

"Mother says it's impolite to grab girls like that." His tickle attack subsided.

"Your mother also thinks I'm going to marry you."

He laughed, using his Ipod to play a song I seriously loved from Freelance Whales. I sang 'Hannah' under my breath while waiting for some sort of response from the boy.

_"...Please don't play the match maker  
Please don't be a player hater  
If you dig her recent work  
You should go congratulate her..."_

He glanced and saw me waiting, then sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"She just… She likes you. You stood up to her. She thinks you ain- aren't – 'a slut, like the other girls in this town'. I wish she wasn't so–"

"Truthful?"

" –blunt. Blunt is the word. She could say unsavory, but no. That's not enough for her."

In truth, Martha Anderson was feared by her sons due to her simple form of punishment. Grab anything nearby and hit someone. Sure, she married Blair Anderson and came into money, but her particular personality didn't scream 'high society', and neither did her sons'. She and Blaine, and her other son Jason, shared curly hair. She was also a bit on the thick side, a tall woman who would crush you against her chest in a hug. Jason inherited that, but Blaine got the short end of the stick. Literally. I had faced her wrath when she caught me and her son eating a pie she had left out to cool. That was way back when we were 10. She had tried to hit Blaine but I told her it was my fault, and that if she was going to hit anyone then it would be me. I'm still unsure if she just liked my moral fiber or if I looked extra guilty with blueberry smeared on my face. Whatever it was saved my ass. She was traditional, but a bit modern; at the very least, not as thick headed as the other people in the town.

"I'm not a slut? Great! I can finally hold my head up high with dignity." was my sarcastic reply.

"Yeah." Blaine stared out at the passing buildings as he hummed the final verse of Hannah.

"Does she even know?" I asked.

We were never the kind of friends who beat around the bush. If you had something to say, you said it. Still, in public we tended to have what I couldn't keep in front of ignorant people: tact. Say what you mean, but only in a way the other can understand. For example: I dyed my hair completely blue when I was twelve and Blaine was the one person to call me out on it with a: 'Are you having a smurf-phase?' Currently, I only kept strips of if blue. Blaine didn't answer until I flicked him at the nose and even then he only swatted my hand away.

"I think she does."

"You should tell her."

Blaine looked at his Ipod and switched to a Neil Diamond song, which I took as my cue to shut up and bring it up later. I so would. He couldn't dodge this particular bullet.

The bus came to a stop in front of Canterbury's Electronics. Once it passed, a two floor building was revealed. It had white columns and was built with red bricks. The windows held wooden frames and there was a statue of a couple of workers near the front. Edgar Smithson High School was named for the one who founded the town, Edgar Smithson, a man from somewhere in the 1800's. It used to be the town hall, so some of the classrooms were a bit small, as they used to be small offices.

As I made my way across the street, still stuck to Blaine and his Ipod, I noticed a silvery car pull up into the parking lot.

I walked faster.

**_E.-FIRSTPERIOD-PRECALCULUS- 8:15 AM_**

Mr. Whitfield called for all of us to calm down, then turned to the blackboard and began writing. I stared at my textbook with mild interest. Ignoring the teacher and his love for the Pythagorean Theorem, I opened the cover of the book and studied the various doodles that were spread out and across the first page. I chose a blank spot and drew a couple cats trying to claw at Cain, who was hanging upside down. He was covered in catnip and chum.

"Tina."

I looked up, shutting my book quickly. A couple of people snickered.

"Do me a favor and head over to office." The dark skinned man held out a folder, smiling in a reassuring way.

When I shut the door behind me I heard a couple of muffled groans. That probably meant we'd have a test at the end of the week. My feet managed to get my legs moving, allowing my body to travel down the hall even when I was in a mild 'Monday-morning' daze. I stopped at a panel like window, noticing how bright the sky seemed. No clouds in sight. Before I could continue down the hall and down the stairs the wailing of a police siren stopped me. A police cruiser stopped in front of the school, two officers stepped onto the sidewalk and then ran towards the yard. I placed my hand against the glass.

"To quote Alice: curious and curiouser."

There was a lumbering figure, a man, moving through the yard, the one left of the school. He wore a suit, black. There were rips here and there and I grimaced at a large spot on his arm. Had he been injured? The officers approached the man, one grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around.

I screamed.

Blood. Blood everywhere. It ran down the side of his face. The front of his shirt was ripped open, with gashes and wounds that were bleeding quickly. I stepped back. Once I heard a scream. I moved backwards, until my back hit the wall. The man had just bounded forward like a wild animal; he bit into the officer's shoulder, refusing to let go even when the officer trashed around.

I screamed again. Over and over and over again. From where I stood, I could still see what was happening. The officer had managed to push the man down, and while the other tried to handle the trashing, black-suited man, the first officer grabbed at his shoulder. When he turned I saw red, meshing with the blue uniform and creating a deep mess of color. He had more wounds. He moved slowly, before falling onto the ground.

My legs were like jelly and I couldn't see the man or the policemen as I let myself fall onto the floor.

"T-Tina!"

I recognized the voice. Blaine stopped in front of me, kneeling and placing his hands on my shoulders. My knees were hugged against my body, but my arms moved and wrapped around my head. _It wasn't possible._ What was happening? There was another scream and then many more, but the latter seemed to be coming from the first floor of the building.

"Tina, don't freeze on me now ok? Come on." He grabbed at my hands. Once they were out of the way he grabbed at the sides of my face. His face was calm, but his eyes were desperate.

"We have to get out of here. Now."

My body moved, my right hand held on to his left and we raced down the hall, reaching the stairs. We only made it a couple of steps before being pushed up against the wall as waves of students came up the stairs. Some had blood on them, several screaming and yelling in fear. I thought a couple had bite marks on their arms. Blaine pushed through the throng of people, up the steps and into the hallway that was quickly filling up.

It was anarchy. There were groans, moans and screams People scrambled for the doors, opening them and rushing in. Students and teachers from inside the classrooms were pushed back by those coming in. Blaine held onto my arm and I pushed up against him when a girl, face covered in blood and tears, ran past me.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Hold on to me, ok? We shouldn't get separated." He looked around, pushing people away and moving us towards the window. There were people running outside, scrambling into buildings or out of buildings, into cars or into the path of cars. A couple of people were on the ground, surrounded and screaming for their lives.

"Tell me what the fuc–"

"_They're coming up!" _

When the moans mingled with the groans, I prayed and prayed and prayed. Maybe this was some kind of hellish dream. Some hallucination from too much time spent watching J-Horror movies and eating Red Vines with cans of Red-Bull.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Blaine was losing it, and so were other kids who were running away.

I noticed a red square beside me.

Pulling it would work. Maybe the emergency doors would open, if there were any. My hands were frozen, grasping my best friend's side.

When I saw a girl–_was that Jenna from down the street_?–being slammed onto the ground by one of the policemen, my body reacted.

_Fire alarm._ I tugged, hard, pulling the handle down and causing the alarm to go off. Loud bells rang, and I saw a door open nearby. People began rushing out, into the light. Pushing was the only way to get passed the hysterical students, all clamoring and yelling. They wanted out. Something had changed, and now we were all desperate to get away. No one questioned what was happening, except the few seen leaning against walls, gasping and grasping bleeding wounds. The light welcomed us, showing salvation. The metal staircase rattled as people ran downwards, running towards the parking lot. Several were running across the yards, behind the building and out through the open gates of the lot. Some fell, as other jumped upon them with feral instinct.

All I could think of was a way to get out. Blaine was now in front of me, never letting go of my hand. I saw silver and I saw someone clamoring to get inside a car. Cain. Pushing past a group of girls, I stopped at the front of car, knocking on the hood. The boy looked up, and I saw emotions that had been hidden from me for quite some time: Fear. Desperation. He narrowed his eyes and I tried not to kick the car as he analyzed whether to run us over or not. The screaming and yelling was becoming too much, making my head throb.

"Cain!" He got the message, and motioned to the back.

We wasted no time and climbed into the vehicle. The timing was miraculous, as someone came up and slammed their fist on the back of the car. White eyes, tarnished hair. Veins could be seen throbbing, lips pushed back to reveal sharp and blood smeared teeth. This person was no longer human, no longer a person in fact.

Just an animal.

"What the hell are you waiting for? Drive!" Blaine screamed.

The car stared up, the rumbling becoming an alien feeling under me. The car moved slowly through the throng of people. The creature behind us had left us alone, and when I turned I saw it chasing someone else. Something bubbled deep in the pit of my stomach and I couldn't help but to keel over slightly, closing my eyes and trying to block everything out.

The desperate screams.

The hopeless cries.

The ruthless roars.

The tearing of clothes, the tearing of flesh.

All that I wanted was to be at the calm, night where every gazed up at the sky and wished on every meteor that passed through the lit-up sky.

Where was that now?

_TO_

_BE_

_CONTINUED_


	2. Finn & Rachel :: OHIO

**_`author's n_**ote: Here we are with the second part of Outbreak, or 'O' as I like to call it. These stories may become interconnected at one point or another but so far you should treat it the way that they are, separate stories about the Glee Kids set in the backdrop that is a during a massive infection of the United States. Or is it the world? Or is it their town? Or is it all in their heads? :] Read to figure that out yourselves. _This is best read in the 3/4 or 1/2 format (upper right part of the screen if you want to change it)._

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to hand that in?"

"Yeah… I'd rather stay here, honestly."

I'm not the brightest guy in Ottawa, Ohio. I don't really need to be. You don't need to be really smart in Ottawa, just an above-average grade gets you through school and sports do the rest. As long as you're not stupid enough to go drinking on a Friday night and buy the liquor from the local supermarket, you're good. Why? Everyone knows everyone else in our neighborhood. If you've lived in one place for more than five years, chances are all the people up and down the street (as well as two to three blocks over) have already sent you a 'Welcome to the 'Hood" pot-roast. So because everyone knows everyone else, it's simple enough to go down the street and hand Mrs. McLaren that magazine Mom borrowed from her last December. So I walk down the street but instead of passing the corner and turning right I keep walking until reaching a bright yellow house with a couple of fountains and a clean lawn.

I smile at the sign over the front porch that proudly exclaims: 211 Williamstown Road, Berry's House. There's a girl there sitting on a swinging chair on the porch. She smiles at me, and almost trips down the front steps when I stop at the white-picket fence gate.

I may not be the brightest guy in Ottawa, Ohio, but I at least know it's safe enough to ignore Mom's favor and spend two hours watching the meteor shower with Rachel Berry. She may smell like my Aunt Bessie's cat sometimes, but she's smoking hot; I get this weird flutter in my stomach when she looks at me. Luckily it's the good kind and I like how it feels while I'm sitting here, with her, on the front steps.

Ottawa was safe enough… before everything went to hell.

**.O.U.T.B.R.E.A.K.**

**Chapter II: Finn & Rachel**

_**OREILYFARM-OTTAWA, OHIO-7:27A.M.**_

_**FEBRUARY 18**__**TH**__** 2005**_

Mom was always afraid of letting me drive the car to school because I hit a mailman last year. It wasn't like I _didn't_ see him. I just didn't slow down in time. Although maybe I shouldn't have been singing 'Do You Want to Touch Me'. It's Joan_ freaking_ Jett! We won the lawsuit because Mom's lawyer kept talking about inebriation during work hours. At least the guy isn't dead and he can still use his right leg.

One thing about Ottawa, Ohio is that it's mostly buildings along big roads through the city and houses along small streets in the neighborhoods. Everything else is just fields. So that's why I'm up extra early today, 6:00 AM, to stop by one of the roads and watch the sun come up. My Dad and I love it. Well, he used to. He used to drop all of us off at one road and park the car, then join us and watch the sun come up. He died when I was eight, so it was just me and my Mom. When I was fourteen she got a job as a secretary to some manager over at Western Bank.

Now it's just me.

The best part is when those first rays come up and then it's a blast of light. The dark clouds move away and the stars are gone. The sky starts turning a really pretty shade of orange and purple. Kinda makes you want to break out into song. I would, too, but the last time I did that I accidentally pressed the accelerator and hit a fence. They fixed it. Besides, only one cow was almost run over. Anyways, sometimes I get up extra early and drop by the supermarket; grab some Cool Ranch Doritos and some orange juice. Find a nice spot by the edge of the road, sit on the back of the pick-up and watch the show.

It was turning out to be a really great morning. The rays were a bit brighter, like the sun was trying to show off. I would've loved to stick around a bit more, but it was already getting to be 7:30 and if I wasn't at the school on time Rachel would walk to class all by herself.

She talks a lot, about Barbara Streisand and how divas aren't understood by the mundane and critical society they live in. Sometimes she wears sweaters that look like my Aunt Gertrude knit them but they kind of stretch over her chest. She lets her hair down when she wears them, so it's not much of a bother. Sometimes her eyes look a bit brighter with her hair down. If I tell her she wears this big smile on her face all-day and I feel like I've earned an honor. Rachel's just awesome like that.

I took one good look at the sky, which was turning a brighter blue by the minute and then hopped off the back of the truck, slamming the door shut and heading for the driver's side. Then I saw him.

Or, I guess you could say, it.

It was Patches, the neighborhood's friendly psychotic. We called him psychotic but the worst thing he ever did was pee on Mr. Ryerson's prized petunias. He usually hung out by the library or the new Target store. He was wearing a long brown trench coat and his hair seemed a bit more – I dunno – crazy?

"Hey Patches. Need a ride?"

He growled a bit and started walking towards me. That's when I saw it –the blood I mean– all over him. His mouth was open and it looked like he was oozing and drooling blood from it instead of saliva. His front was all covered in the stuff. What made me step back was the smell. Patches never smelled like a bed of roses but this stuff was rank. It was like iron and Tuesday's left-over meat special had an unholy child with a Boomer.

"Dude, stop by the shelter man… maybe the hospital too."

"_Grah!" _Patches broke into a run and slammed me into the ground. His bloody hand grabbed at my face while I screamed for help. Holding him back with my arms was barely working. For a crazy, homeless person he was really heavy. He drooled all over the front of my shirt, gurgling and growling. I felt one of his nails scratch my cheek and kicked him right between the legs.

Nothing.

Not even a small groan.

"Are you neu–" Patches tried pushing his face towards me but I lifted my legs, tucking them a bit before kicking again. He flew right off when I used my arms too. He just growled and wiggled on the road, his blood and spit rubbing onto the dirt.

Patches was getting up when I jumped into my car and started it. He lifted his arms out to reach for me but I peeled out of there as fast as possible.

_**KINGSLEYHIGHSCHOOL-OTTAWA, OHIO-8:07A.M.**_

What people don't get about me is that all these comments and insults they throw at me will just help me launch my career.

I already have everything sorted out:

It all starts with ninth grade, where I make sure to present myself as the perfect students for the teachers: never one to sass, always on time and always punctual. After that keeping my academics up was a breeze. Tenth grade was devoted to perfecting the art of socializing by becoming part of nearly every organization KHS had to offer: the Speech Club, Mock United Nations Club, Renaissance Club, Muslim Students Club, 4H Club, and the Black Students Union. Being a star will obviously have people clamoring to know more about my roots, so showing them how I as a leader in High School is the best way to ensure no scandalous incidents start popping up out of nowhere. Heaven knows how unruly and jealous old classmates make up stuff just for the sake of making money from the tabloids. That's why every picture has to be prim, perfect and poised. After that, eleventh grade is where I can showcase my talent.

It's not like anyone here in Putnam County will appreciate it but at least my Youtube-Channel my get me discovered and out of this–

"Morning Yentl!"

_Splash!_

–ignorant hell-hole.

That splash of cold root beer in my face was like the sting of a thousand prickly needles. Don't cry. Just compose yourself, grab the kit from the locker and find the nearest bathroom.

Looking in the mirror now, I can't help but wonder how much more of this I can take. Did Barbara Streisand have to deal with this kind of immature, ruthless behavior from her classmates? Did Stella Adler face this kind of judgment before opening up her dance studio? Maybe.

The bathroom smells like a combination of old urinal cakes and cigarettes. A girl walks out from one of the stalls at the far end and checks her makeup in the mirror. Our eyes meet when I take a moist towelette and wipe off some of the darker patches on my pink cardigan. She smiles at me, and she gives me this 'Sucks-to-be-you' kind of look with her eyebrows before leaving.

"It's not like I couldn't wear my frill shirt…"

After this dreadful phase of my life is over I'll move out of Ohio all-together and everything will be fine. I'm not going to New York or L.A. because it's too predictable. It's much too easy to crash and burn there, creating a sense of dread and cast away all hope of being discovered. No, I'll go someplace like Cincinnati or Chicago, study for a while and then hit the bigger cities. There's no rush.

As long as everything goes according to plan.

According to the plan at the moment, I need to find a way to get these dark blotches off my cardigan. However, I had spent the last five minutes fruitlessly rubbing at the material and only managed to get bits of wet towelette embedded in the sweater. I folded it up and fixed my white, frill shirt. After folding it neatly to avoid any unnecessary creases, the cardigan ended up in my bag after I washed out my hair a bit to avoid getting Red Dye #40 stuck in it for the rest of the day.

The bell rang when I finished drying my hands and I stared at the door to the bathroom. If I waited a couple of moments and then rushed a bit, avoiding Mrs. Harrison at the end of the hall, I could hurry off and reach my morning Biology class in peace.

No one would have the time to slushie me. Hopefully.

_**KINGSLEYHIGHSCHOOL-OTTAWA, OHIO-9:15 A.M.**_

I don't really believe in God, but I did make a sandwich with Jesus's face grilled on it once. It got me my quarterback spot and made Rachel let me get to second base but after that I thought it was a bit weird. Me and my Mom were never really religious and I can't remember my father being that way either, even though he was a church-born and raised army brat.

Grandma still complains that we're going to hell for not abiding by 'His' laws and not going to church.

Right now though, I wondered if someone had been right about that whole 'when hell is full the dead will walk the earth'. It's freaking Dawn of the Dead out here.

The hallway was empty, except for some girl with her sweater and shirt half-pulled off lying in a puddle of her own blood at the end of it. Sure, I had played enough Zombie movies to know she'd probably get back up later but my feet wouldn't move. You know that moment when you're so scared or freaked out that your body decides it won't let you move it. I felt that way the first time I played spin the bottle and I had to kiss Suzy Pepper. It wasn't half-bad but she needed to stop being so _bitey_. Anyways, my legs tingled slightly when I took a step forward and then one back.

The girl's body shook for a second or two. She was laying face down and had been like that for a while.

What if God was punishing us or something? Maybe it's because I ate that 'Grilled Cheesus' I made by accident or because someone defaced that one statue of St. Mary down by Orange Road but it sucked. It sucked because I realized that maybe Patches didn't have rabies and he had just caught the big 'Z'. Zombie bite, zombie scratch? Whatever made him try to bite my face off this morning was already running around the school.

The girl's hand moved and she lifted herself up. For a moment, her brown hair covered her face and I was afraid for Rachel. What if that was Rachel in a pool of her own blood? She'd probably hate the fact that she was going to be walking around half-naked trying to eat the people she always said would love her one day when she was on Broadway.

"Gruuh…"

Zombie girl stood up, placing her hands on the lockers right next to her and pulling herself towards me. Some of her bangs moved sideways, since she was kinda leaning away from the lockers. It was like a weird crawl/drunken walk. Anyway, her bangs moved and then I realized those thick black glasses and the wirey braces were really familiar.

Like girl-I-kissed-once-and-she-nearly-bit-my-lip-off familiar. Suzy Pepper stared at me, her eyes really white and black lines crossing all over her face.

Were those her veins?

I didn't have much time to analyze it because, like Patches did this morning, she stared at me before running.

All I could do was put my arms in front of me to try and block her.

"Gru-aah!" Suzy's fingers clawed at my arms and I grabbed onto her forearms while pushing her back.

She kept leaning towards me, her mouth open and her teeth pushed out, all at different angles but covered in those thick metal braces she had. Her glasses were falling off her face and her skin looked incredibly pale. Those veins popping all over her face weren't helping. I managed to push her back against the lockers and she continued to growl at me.

"Rah… Grauaah!"

If you stared at her long enough she did look like herself. Suzy Pepper with her wiry glasses and her hair pulled back with a headband that looked like she made it herself. It wasn't badly made but you could always see her making stuff: bracelets, rings, necklaces. I think she even made Rachel a headband with a raspberry on it. When I held onto her and pushed her away, keeping my hands on her arms while she tried to eat my face, she still looked like Suzy; well she looked like Suzy if you ignored the drool and the growling and the whole undead-come-back-to-eat-us thing. She still looked like Suzy who was really clean and liked sharing her brownies at lunch.

Then she pushed me back and climbed on top of me when my back hit the floor and I realized one thing: Suzy Pepper was dead. She was dead and if I didn't pull a 'Resident Evil' move she was going to have me for lunch.

That's when I saw it. The janitor's yellow cart. It was sideways and laying on the floor next to the lockers with mops, spray bottles, and tools around it on the floor.

"Gack-agh!" My knuckles hurt when they hit her mouth. She scratched my cheek with her left hand, and then moved back down to try and bite me so I punched her again.

"Guak-kra–" I managed to get her off me and pin her to the ground. She lifted her hands and I pressed my left leg against her arms and chest.

"Crap. Su –_don't bite me_–you're making this hard…" The hammer was gleaming on the floor between a bottle of Krud Kutter and a mop. While reaching for it Suzy tried to bite my fingers off. I smacked her face with the back of the hammer and blood sprayed across the floor.

"Blargh-grauck!" Her blood was spilling out of her mouth and nose as she tried to bite again.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry!"

"Finn? Finn!" I wasn't sure if she was talking to me since I had my left hand on her throat, pushing her face away from mine and pressing her head on the floor.

Her legs trashed and her arms pulled at my sleeves as I raised the hammer.

Pssh.

"Guack!"

Blood sprayed all over the white tiles of the floor when I brought the hammer down.

_Psssh. Psssh._

"Gru-hun-bla–"

Again and again it came until everything was red, and then Suzy suddenly stopped groaning and growling. Blood was coming out from her mouth which was opened up and missing teeth. Her tongue hung from a gash from the right side of her mouth and drool began to spill out slowly. Her arms were still holding onto me but her legs stopped moving.

"Finn!" I screamed and fell to my side when arms tried to hold me.

"G-Get away! Get b-b-back!" I held my hammer up as I slid back on the floor. Looking up I could only see a dark face against the lights in the hallway.

"Oh my God, Finn." That voice was like music to my ears.

It reminded me of Rachel singing some song from a girl named Yentl when I sprained my shoulder playing football and had to stay at home for weeks. It reminded me of Rachel because it was Rachel.

Her hands trembled when they touched my cheek but they _were touching my cheek._ She looked like a mess with her hair strewn everywhere and some blood on her shirt. Her eyes were red and puffy like she was crying a lot. I wanted to hold her, to tell her everything would be alright.

Then I looked at Suzy Pepper and the hammer in my hand and we had to switch for a second because the tears wouldn't stop coming.

_To_

_Be_

_Continued_


End file.
